lately I've been checked out find myself on the thirdtrain home biting the side of my mouth until blood buthow did I get here feeling driven to punch a face a wallI am I say in a bad way I stand outside the gym witha violent name while sirens paint my body I am attempt-ed offered chicken through smoke in exchange for whatI cannot get ahold of the person I need hands too busylifting I wake up in a bed with only the small lights oncat on my belly but I can't locate the rumbling I made itthrough this October unlike last year thought myselflucky past it laughable still plenty of fall in which to drown

[if I’m still here…]

if I'm still here after can remember all of arrivingat winter let me just say the desert means nothingto me to me trauma happens in a lushness with my facetoward trees which are yes dying but for now so full& when I squint I get a sky of pennies a change jareasy to lose myself in the retching continues the trainis late I am over the yellow line releasing coffee oat-meal sprouted lentils onto the tracks I worry no oneoh my pills goodbye to the little tubes of them the familyof secrets hiding inside his insistence I'll forget his needto ask me more than once did you take them today lately there's a lot that wakes me up makes me pushopen a window circle the house retracing what's beenasked of me by people who shouldn't have asked

[I know someone…]

I know someone no doubt remembers me onlyin a green dress doughy & believing I'll neversleep or love again a stranger's narrow mattressthe air turning what was kept private then likewhere she put her mouth & if she put her mouththere you can't I say keep everyone like it'llhelp lately I am grieving a loss long loststruggling to keep anything down rememberthe way I get from one spot to another & whenit's time to reenter the body there's a basketan aisle of beans to navigate or a credit cardreceipt in need of my signature I am in needof remaining in one pieces don't want to writethis anymore of when I bled & bled summoningsnow there were no friends with the right-sized pupils to tell am I in hell I asked myselfmindlessly burning grilled cheese sandwichesmy fingers when striking a match candles litin memory of the never-known state linescrossed after losing power I stayed in anarboretum where the seasons hadn't yetchanged there was a person who could holdme there & did as I dissolved I say nextyear like there's any certainty like I'll feelany different lately I scrub the same stretchof kitchen counter until I'm told to stop

[I rembember nothing...]

I remember nothing of it only the jaw's acheleft from biting down sore temples which theycan pre-treat next time which is always the dayafter tomorrow no-skid socks at the bed's end& on my hand a scar lately I feel simultaneouslylikeva plant in need of light & light that can't waitto get out attention attention dinner is-- salmonwith certainty the presence of a pork chop wouldshock me now see what I did there it all becomesa game small songs sung in the halls kept fluorescenteven when I wake at three some mornings I'm worriedI'm giving away what I've been given when eachThursday begs the same questions I count changename presidential hopefuls I tell you what's happened& what I'm here for in my own words there's a partof me that knows everything this is the part I show

Saying It

but you just got married. don’t you love your life?what happens on fridays? you should know you lookbetter. you’d been looking, i don’t know, dim.we missed you. oh, there you are. i was talking about youlike you weren’t even here. what are you on?do you have a name for it? do they put you under?will you write about this? you don’t have to answer, but

the hospital february i wanted to die

yes it’s complicated treatment thank you

well yeah thank you hello i know it’s how i am

prozac abilify ativan they call it persistent

no yes no where do i begin

the hospital look at me

Anna Meister is author of the chapbook NOTHING GRANTED (forthcoming, dancing girl press) & holds an MFA in poetry from NYU. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The Kenyon Review, DIAGRAM, Public Pool, The Offing, & elsewhere. A recipient of residencies/fellowships from the Saltonstall Foundation for the Arts & NYU, Anna lives in Des Moines, IA & at www.anna-meister.com.